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ADDKI .SS 

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JOHN M.TIHIRSTON 

AT I H i: A.NNI \!. B \\i ill: 1 OF THE 

MICHIGAN CLUB AT DETROIT, 

PE] SRI :.\KY 21st, IS9< >. 



I\ RESPONSE TO 1 



"The Man Who Wears the Button 1 



Sometimes in passing along the street I meet a man 
who, in thr left lapel of his coat, wears a little, plain, 
modest, unassuming bronze button. The coat is often 
old and rusty: the face above it seamed and furrowed 
by the toil and suffering of adverse years: perhaps be- 
side it hangs an empty sleeve, and below it stumps a 
wooden peg. But when I meet the man who wears 
that button I doff my hat and stand uncovered in hi> 
presence yea! to me the very dust his weary foot has 
pressed is holy ground, for I know that man. in the 
dark hour of the Nation's peril, bared his breast to the 
hell of battle to keep the Han- of our country in the 
Union >k\ 

May be at Donaldson lie reached the inner trench; at 
Shiloh held the broken line: at Chattanooga climbed 
the flame-swept hill, or stormed the clouds on Lookout 
Heights. He was not born or bred to soldier life. His 
country's summons called him from the plow, the forge, 
the bench, the loom, the mine, the store, the cilice, the 



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r vt % " college, the sanctuary. He did not fight for greed of 
gold, to find adventure, or to win renown, lie loved 
the peace of quid ways, and yet he broke the clasp of 
clinging arms, turned from the witching glance of ten- 
der eyes, left good bye kisses upon tiny lips to look 
death in the face on desperate fields. 

And when the war was over he quietly took up the 
broken threads of love and life as best he could, a better 
citizen for having been so good a soldier. 

What mighty men have worn this same bronze but- 
ton! Grant, Sherman, Sheridan, Logan and an hun 
died more, whose names are written on the title pane 
of deathless fame. Their glorious victories are known of 
men; the history of their country gives them voice; the 
white light of publicity illuminates them for every eye. 
Bui there are thousands who, in humbler way, no less 
deserve applause. How man} 

KNIGHTLIEST ACTS OF CHIVALRY 

were never seen beyond the line or heard of above the 
roar of battle: I know a man wearing the button whose 
modest lips will not unclose upon his own heroic deeds. 
Let me the story tell of one. On the morning of July 
1, 1862, 5,000 confederate cavalry advanced upon 
Booneville, Mo., then held by Col. Philip Sheridan with 
less than a thousand troopers. The federal line, being 
strongly intrenched, was able to hold its ground against 
the greatly superior force. Bu1 Sheridan, fearful of 
being outflanked, directed n young captain to take a 
portion of two companies, make a rapid detour, charge 
the enemy in rear, and throw its line into confusion, 
thus making possibles simultaneous and successful at- 
tack in front. Sheridan said to him: k I expect of 
your command the quick and desperate work usually 
imposed upon a forlorn hope;" at the same time bidding 
him what promised to be an eternal farewell. Ninety- 
two men rode calmly out, knowing the supreme moment 
of their lives had come. What was in their hearts dur 
ins: that silent ride? What lights and shadows flashed 



across the cameras of their souls? To one pale boy 
there came the vision of a quaint <>l<l house, a white- 
haired woman on her knees in prayer, an open bible by 
her side. God's peace upon her face. Another niemors 
held a cottage half embedded in the shade of sheltering 
trees and clinging vines, stray bits of sunshine round 
the open door; within a fair young mother, crooning 
lullabys above a baby's crib. And one old grizzled hero 
seemed to see, in mists of unshed tears, a brush-grown 
corner of the farm yard fence, and through the rails a 
blended picture of faded calico and golden curls and 
laughing eyes. And then the little column halted on a 
hit of rising ground and faced —destiny! 

Before them was a brigade of cavalry 3,000 strong. 
That way lay death. Behindthem were the open fields, 
the sheltering woods, safety and dishonor, dust for a 
moment every cheek was blanched. A robin sang un 
heeded from a neighboring limb; clusters of purple 
daisies bloomed unseen upon the grassy slope; the 
sweet, fresh breath of early summer tilled the air. unfelt 
by all. They only saw 

THE DEAR OLD FLAG OF UNION 

overhead; they only knew thai foes of country blocked 

the road in front: they only heard the ringing voice of 

their gallant leader ordering the charge, and with a yell 

the little troop swept on. 

"Flashed every sabre bare, 
Flashed as they turned in air, 
Charging an army, 

While all the world wondered." 

So sudden and unexpected was the attack, so desper- 
ate and irresistible the charge, that this handful of men 
cut their way through the heart of a whole brigade. 
Then, in prompt obedience to the calm command of 
their captain, they wheeled, re-formed and charged 
again. At this opportune moment, while the confeder 
ates were in confusion, Sheridan's whole line dashed 
forward with mighty cheers and the day was won. 

That night forty of the ninety-two kept their eternal 

3 



bivouac on the field of battle, their white faces kissed by 
the silent stars. The captain was left for dead, but 
thank God! he still lives; lives to wear the button of a 
people's love. For the man whose sublime courage and 
daring leadership gave victory and a first star to Phil 
Sheridan, was Russell A. A leer of Detroit. (Great 
applause, i 

The President of the United States wears the button; 
a soldier and a statesman, he wears it for the Nation's 
honor. As the selected chief of the Republican party, 
his administration should receive the cordial support of 
every man who believes in its principles. With a Re- 
publican congress, working under business rules; pre- 
sided over by a Bpeaker whom ruffianism cannot intimi- 
date or invective annoy, it oughl to be possible to keep 
every party pledge. It ought to b v possible to revise 
the tariff in such a way as to protect American labor 
without imposing an unjust burden upon any man who 
toils. It ought to be possible to complete an honest 
census and make a fair reapportionment, it ought to 
be possible to protect every American citizen in his 
right to live, to labor, and to vote. It ought to be pos- 
sible to provide for the helplessness and old age, for the 
widows and orphans, for the suffering and wounds of 
every man who wore the Union button. (Applause.) 

The Republic was saved by 

AN ENORMOUS SACRIFICE OK BLOOD 

and treasure. The blood was that of patriots— volun- 
teers who received $13 a month. The treasure was 
loaned by capitalists, who purchased our bonds at 4<> 
cents on the dollar. 

To-day the bondholders are clipping their coupons, 
and the veterans their bandages. The written obliga- 
tion of the governmenl to the one class has been loyally 
kept by Republican legislation, supported by the sol- 
diers vote. Its unwritten obligation to theother should 
be no less binding on the conscience of the Nation. A 



surplus in the treasury and heroes in the poorhouse is 
not creditable to a brave people. Applause. 

The men vvho wear the button are dropping away one 
by one and in a few more years they will .-ill have an- 
swered to Heaven's reveille, bul their sons remain. 
Their -on- remain, not only to enjoy the heritage of 
good government, prosperity and peace, but take their 
fathers* places in the ranks of the grandesl party God's 
favor ever shone upon. Most of the son> of men who 
wore tin' button are Republicans by inheritance, by con- 
viction and by choice. They will follow the precedents 
their fathers set. 

I remember one. In November, L864, the union 
prisoners in Andersonville held an election in all due 
form of law. New- had reached them from beyond the 
lines that the Republican pai'ty had renominated Abra- 
ham Lincoln upon a platform which declared for the 
prosecution of the war to the bitter end. They had 
heard that the Democrats had nominated George I> 
McClellan on a platform which declared the war a fail 
ure, ami called for the cessation of hostilities. They 
knew that McClellan's election would result in a speedy 
exchange of prisoners and a return to home. Hew 
much that meant to a man penned up there, (io<\ only 
knows. To walk once more the shady lane: to see the 
expectant faces of love in the open door: to hold 
against his breast the one woman whose momentary em- 
brace seemed more to him than hope of heaven doc- to 
you and me; to raise in yearning arms the sturdy boy 
who was a baby when hi- father marched away. It 
meant this, and it meant more. It meant life, and hope, 
and home, and love, and peace for him: hut for the flag, 
dishonor) and foi the Union, dissolution. 

THE RE-ELECTION OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

meant the indefinite continuance of the war: prolonged 
captivity, suffering and death, amid the horrors of 
Andersonville. They knew the i>sue and they solemnly 
prepared to meet it on that election morning. A mock 



election. say you? Yes, a mock election. Its result 
would never be returned to swell the grand total of 
loyal votes in liberty's land, but in the golden book of 
life, thai mock election is recorded in letters of eternal 
splendor. (Applause.) They took for their ballot-box 
an old tin coffee pot; their hallots were army beans. A 
black bean was for Lincoln, the Republican party, the 
flag and the Union, hut the man who east it could never 
expect to see home, wife or babies any more. A white 
bean was for McClellan, the Democratic party, the 
Union sacrificed, its flag in the dust: I nit it also was a 
promise to those despairing men of all most dear to 
human hearts. Some walked to the polls; some crawled 
there, and some were borne in the tender arms of loving 
comrades, and with the last expiring breath of life 
dropped in the bean thaJ registered a freeman's will. 
And when the sun had set and the glory of evening 
filled the sky, eager hands tore oil' the lid and streaming 
eyes looking therein saw that the inside of the old coffee 
pot was as Mack as the face of the blackest eont riband 
with votes for Abraham Lincoln and the Republican 
party. (Applause.) 

God bless the men who wore the button! They 
pinned the stars of Union in the azure of our flag with 
bayonets, and made atonement for a nation's sin in 
blood. They took the negro from the auction block and 
at the altar of emancipation crowned him citizen. 
They supplemented "Yankee Doodle" with "Glory 
Hallelujah," ami Yorktoun with Appomatox. Their 
powder woke the morn of universal freedom and made 
the name ••American" lirst iu.aH the earth. To us their 
memory is an inspiration and to the future it is hope. 



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WERT 
BOOKBINDr 
Cfintville Pa 
March Apri< 198? 





















